Prima Donna
by Freydris
Summary: An ordinary, strong-willed, and hard-working woman woke up to a broken stage, an outrageously fabulous violet dress, and the name "Carlotta" in a supposedly fictional universe. [SI-as-Carlotta]
1. Chapter 1

Prima Donna

* * *

Mina had seen her fair share of long days, but this one, by far, was the longest.

Stumbling up the steep steps that led to the front porch, the woman pressed her forehead against the door and knocked tiredly, slumped, desperately hoping her brother was in. She had forgotten her keys earlier.

When no one answered after three weak _thunks_ , she peered into the foggy windows and saw that all the lights were off. She glanced at her wrist watch and rubbed her stinging knuckles. It was almost half-past-six.

He wasn't home. Bloody brilliant.

Resigning herself to a night of sleeping out on the old rocking chair, with the pesky mosquitoes and occasional raccoons as company, she dropped her backpack and kicked it into the little doggy door. She heard it land on the carpet.

Her bag got to spend the evening warm and cozy under a roof, while she had to deal with the cold night air and animals. Mina tried to laugh, but a low groan came out instead.

What was the world coming to?

Rubbing her eyes tiredly, she staggered towards the chair and miserably plopped down. When it tilted back and bounced back froward, she yelped and stiffened, almost sliding out of place. Clutching the seat's arms, she steadied herself, and then covered her face, embarrassed.

Her head drooped forward, heavy and lumbersome and whirling with thoughts that refused to rest.

Attempting to make herself comfortable against the prickly woodcraft and failing, the woman pulled out her phone from her pants with a huff, and sent her brother a short message. That boy was probably up to no good again—womanizing, drinking, doing whatever it was college boys liked to do.

Stifling a huge yawn, she sleepily took note of what she had done, and what she still had to do. Being a teacher was difficult.

 _Volleyball practice, 5 PM to 8 PM. The first game was in a week. Karen didn't even know how to set the ball yet._

 _Two quizzes for the Grade 8 students. One practical exam for the Grade 9 on basketball. Cooper had to re-take the last quiz; the girl had missed it because of a family reunion._

 _Papers to submit so that she could be paid for everything she was doing. That included a trip to the University's main office. Did she have gas money?_

 _She had class with the college students, too, during the weekends. She had foolishly agreed to sub for an older Professor for a couple of weeks._

 _More paperwork. The deadline for grades was long past._

 _That promise to show Jim to the—well, to the gym._

 _And a staff meeting next Wednesday. A presentation about the new curriculum?_

Distractedly, Mina reached for her earphones, and carefully plugged each bud into each ear. Blindly swiping at the phone's screen for the music-playing app, she pressed for shuffle, and was promptly deafened by an electric-guitar version of "Phantom of the Opera".

Flinching, she frantically lowered the volume, and wondered despairingly how long it had been since she last sat down, watched a proper opera or musical, and enjoyed herself completely.

Too damn long, that's how.

She wished she could just go back and experience that simple pleasure again. At least, for a short while.

Thick eyelashes fluttering close, she leaned back and exhaled deeply. Her grip slackened, and she evened her breathing, pacing every intake of air, controlling every outtake. The chair's faint movements eventually rocked her to a fitful sleep.

BANG.

Mina startled awake. She inhaled desperatedly, and coughed, unattractively hacking out lung-shaking barks that did nothing but bring in more dust into her open mouth. Tearing up—her allergies, _oh my God_ —she ungracefully pushed herself up in a sitting position from where she lay crumpled on the floor. Faintly she saw a dark shadow dart from the catwalks, and disappear into the shadows completely.

Wait.

What catwalks?

She clutched her stinging throat and waved the other hand in front of her face, fanning away the smoke that billowed around her. A single sack lay above the splintered floorboards, innocently sitting about a foot away. "What the f-"

"Carlotta! Amica mia, are you a'hurt?" A rotund man shouted in thicky accented French, running to her side. She took a look at him and gasped, taken aback by the fierce, overdone make-up he had on. His face was completely covered in stark white, bold colors, red swipes that faded into orange, marking his eyes and his fat cheeks.

With a small grunt he pulled her up, patted her dress free of dirt—her _what dress—_ and finally noticed her accurate imitation of a fish. She looked at him like he were crazy.

"La Carlotta?" He prompted reluctantly.

Mina pushed him away and looked around wildly, taking in the awful sight and smells of whatever dump on Earth she had ended up on. She wasn't in her front porch anymore—that was the understatement of the century.

Instead, she stood at a broken stage, having a panic attack in front of give or take two hundred other bewildered, frightened people. Her breathing grew short and fast, and she quickly sat back down. Or maybe her legs had just given up on her. Either way, her ass hit the ground hard, and a deeply violet skirt pooled around her waist. She stared at it. Because _where did it come from._

"What the-what the-what the absolute _fuc_ -"

"Carlotta!" The man shouted, taken aback by her reaction. "Carlotta, me'diva, take a deep breath—take a really deep breath-"

She covered her lower face. She could already feel the rashes forming; her face was itching something fierce. "Who the-who on Earth are you?" She demanded shrilly, backing away from him. Her hands spasmed as she tried to grope around for her phone, or anything else that could help her in the situation.

He stopped short and stared at her.

"Where in the world am I?" She continued, taking in large, shuddering breaths. Her hands were shaking, and she clasped them together tightly.

He looked shocked. And then he recovered, looking faintly bemused. The other people in the room mirrored his expression. Some even cracked out amused smiles. A middle-aged man with an outstanding moustache covered his eyes and turned away irritably, and Mina felt furious at their gall.

"Carlotta, dis is not da time to be a'joking around." The fat man chastised. "Come, let us see if you are hurt."

"I am not joking around." Mina snapped, struggling to get to her feet again. She managed to pull herself up, and looked around. "Who are you? Where am I? Is this some sort of joke?" She asked. She caught sight of a long, thick piece of wood—a prop, it seemed like—just within her reach and snatched it up. She raised it and snarled at the large man and his entourage. "It's not funny. Take me back home!"

The amused smiles fell. The middle-aged man turned back and faced her again, shell-shocked.

The fat man's eyes were wide. It looked strange on his round face. "You...do not remember?"

Her nostrils flared. "Oh, I do bloody well remember!" She tightened her grip on the stick. "I was at home, on my front porch. And now all of a sudden I'm in a bloody stage with all you bastards-"

Horrified cries came from the crowd.

"Merde, she has hit her head!"

"What about the rehearsals?"

"Forget about the rehearsals, what about the production?

"Isn't this a good thing?"

"Carlotta," the man began after a short, clipped silence. Mina's eyebrows furrowed, and her gaze darkened. What was with this guy calling her "Carlotta"? Bloody freak-

"Amica, calm down, si?" He was saying, approaching her slowly and carefully, like she were an angry horse. "Calm. Something bad has happened, and now you 'ave lost your memor-"

"Try that again, you little bag of limp-"

"Calm. Calm."

Mina stepped back, alarmed by his increasing proximity, and heard footsteps come from behind her. She glanced around and let out a startled shriek. Two huge men were coming up from the backstage, arms held out like they were hoping to pacify a wild beast. "Madamoiselle-"

While she was distracted, the fat man—the ring leader, she guessed hatefully—lunged and siezed her waist, hoisting her up like a sack of potatoes. Howling, she kicked him across the stomach and thrashed. He was unprepared for such a response, crying out, and she was able to knock him on the head, sending them both crashing down. Rolling off him, she staggered up and ducked as the other two flew past her, tripping on her skirts.

"Back off, asshole! I will fucking end you if you even—sshiiiit-"

A wave of men drew towards her, boxing her in, and Mina was suddenly held up and carried away. The stick was ripped from her clawing hands. A strict-looking woman appraised her worriedly and directed the grunting men towards the corridors, speaking in rapid-fire French that was drowned out by Mina's high-pitched death threats. They thrust her upon an old-fashioned room, and locked the door just before she could launch back out and pluck their eyeballs from their sockets.

"Someone call the doctor, quick! I fear the blow to the head has made her mad!"

Mina sat down and stared at her hands. She looked at it for a couple of moments before stumbling up, taking up a chair, and slamming it against the window.

Colored glass shattered and rained upon the concrete below. The passersby gasped and yelled. She stuck her head out into the early morning air and appraised the height. Bloody hell. Shouts came, then, her kidnappers (or whatever they were) seeing what she had done, and she knew that sooner rather than later they would be running into the room and keeping her away from her freedom, but-

She stared at the horizon that greeted her.

This was not Connecticut.

 _Motherfucker_ , this didn't even look like the 20th century. Carriages, gentlemen in tophats, ladies in dresses, children in the streets, vendors and grocers and butchers and bakers—all paused to stare up at her slackened expression of complete bewilderment, framed in shattered, stained windows, disheveled and distraught and suddenly feeling faint.

When the hands siezed her arms and pulled her away from the gaping hole on the wall, and checked her forehead and felt her pulse and touched her scalp, and voices that asked, "Does this hurt?", all Mina did was turn away and slip back into welcoming unconsciousness.

Mina had seen her fair share of long days, but this one, by far, was the longest.


	2. Chapter 2

Mina looked at the door expectantly.

She had been bedridden for three days. Her head was bandaged sloppily, treated with funny-smelling ointments but sound advice. She had been bathed and kept away from dust to calm her allergies. The doctor had told her not to move around, but he didn't have to. Mina felt too faint to even budge from a prone position, nevermind go around shrieking like a wildcat, like she had done a couple of days prior.

The three days had been excruciatingly long and painful. People milled about La Carlotta's house, asking after her condition—she had _admirers_ , she concluded dumbfoundedly—bothering the servants—she had _servants_ , she realized with equal (if not more) the disbelief as before—and generally disrupting her rest with frequent letters filled with long-winded concern and well-wishes, and baskets upon baskets of flowers.

And she had a dog. It was a Bolognese. The maids told her the dog responded to "Doggie".

Creative, had been her first thought.

Mina wished she were dreaming. But after the first two days, she quickly found out that she was, in fact, not. What could have possibly caused this? She despaired, rubbing her clear face. She had taken a thorough bath the very moment she had been permitted to.

The Bolognese dog sat at the foot of her bed and stared at her curiously.

Sorcery? She wondered, curling her fingers around her bruised wrist. Wishes? Karma? Hallucinations?

There was a knock on the door. A woman's voice meekly called out, "Madame, you have a visitor."

"C-Come in." Mina stammered, sitting up. The door opened, and the fat man from the first day entered the room. He asked her immediately, "Do you know'a my name?"

Mina shook her head. His face fell, and the door closed behind him.

For three days, he had come to her—to La Carlotta's—house. For three days, he had asked that same question. For three days, she had answered honestly.

Mina suspected that she knew whom he was, truth be told. Assuming...assuming that she really hadn't gone crazy, and that this was real, then he must've been Piangi. Or was it Paolo? Pialo?

He paced across the room, arms crossed against his chest. He appeared greatly troubled, and unhappily Mina followed his movements with her dulled eyes.

"What _is_ your name?" Mina deigned to ask finally, propping her chin on her palm. He sent her a short glance, taken aback by the question. He stopped short and looked at her helplessly.

Impatiently, she gestured for him to answer, her lips twisting to a frown.

"Ubaldo." He answered quickly, blinking. "Ubaldo Piangi."

Aha. So she had been right.

"I see." She looked away and played with the embroidery on her blanket. It was a beautiful piece of craftmanship. It didn't seem mass-produced. She made a distinctly impressed huffing sound, before remembering that such mastered craft probably came from enslaved Asian colonies.

If what was happening was real.

Honestly, she still wanted to kick Ubaldo Piangi's balls, but it seemed that he was the only person on her side at the moment.

"Christine Daae will'a be taking your role in da Thisbe and Pyramus." He blurted out suddenly, sitting on the divan across the bed. The wood bent beneath his weight, but the sofa didn't creak or anything. Perhaps it was used to his weight. He was a frequent visitor, after all.

Mina perked up at the mention of Christine's name, but frowned at the mention of a "Thisbe and Pyramus". She couldn't recall any mentions of that particular performance during the whole musical. Was the time set pre-Raoul?

"I do not recognize that name." She lied carefully, slowly, searching for his reaction. His face was deceptively blank, but his eyes were unusually expressive. The dismay in them were hard to unsee. "But it doesn't matter." She continued quickly, afraid he would interrupt. "I do not sing."

His eyes grew wide. " _Prego_?" He demanded.

"'Prego'?" Mina echoed, confused. "I don't understand."

Belatedly she realized her mistake—La Carlotta was believed to be either Italian or Spanish. She froze like a deer caught in the headlights as Piangi rose to his feet. "Carlotta-"

"Do not call me that." She interrupted moodily, defensive. "That is-"

"I know." Piangi cut off, sighing. Mina's defensive walls fell. "Carmina, I know dat you have'a lost your memory, but please, bear with me here."

Mina was even more confused now. Car...mina? Hysterical laughter bubbled at the hollow of her throat, but she kept her lips sealed. Was this some sort of joke? She did not find it the slighest bit funny. "...I don't understand." She didn't understand a lot of things, these past few days.

"We met in Lyon, and I heard you sing." He spoke, not noticing her growing confusion. His gaze gained a faraway look. "I thought to sponsor you, and you eagerly accepted my offer. This is better than being chambermaid, don't you think? Took on the stage name La Carlotta. People believed you came from my homeland, so I taught you da accent."

Mina felt faint for the second time since the beginning of the whole mess. "...Really?" She asked weakly.

He nodded. "You have forgotten a lot, mi amica, but see?" He gestured to the room grandly. "You 'ave everything you ever wanted. If Christine Daae sings on that stage, you will not be paid, and you will no longer be prima donna. Everything you worked so 'ard for, ija, gone. You will be replaced. That cannot 'appen, do you understand me?"

She did not. "What are you to me?" Mina asked breathlessly instead, wide-eyed.

His face was once again unreadable. "A friend."

There was something unsaid in the room. Mina thought that Carlotta had been in a relationship with Piangi, but that was obviously not the case here. Frantically, she covered her face with her hands and managed to say, "I need to think. Please leave."

His sigh was heavy and burdensome, but the doors closed behind him.

Mina frantically rubbed her face. She straightened out the facts. "La Carlotta" was a stage name. Her real name was apparently Carmina. Very few knew that. She wasn't actually Italian or Spanish, but she had mastered the accent in order to boost her popularity. She used to be a chambermaid in a place called Lyon. Where was that? It sounded European.

...Christine Daae was taking "her" role in the next opera.

Mina didn't have much love for the characters of the "Phantom of the Opera". She had no patience for Christine—her little ten-year-old cousin had more sense than the all the girl showed throughout the whole story—and Raoul was exactly what he was described as: a fop. The Phantom—what was his real name? Charles? Victor?—was a scary bully.

What she did have love for, though, was its music.

Taking a deep breath, she experimentally tried to sing. She began with a simple, "Do re mi."

She cringed upon hearing herself. The sound she produced was loud and clear, echoing in the stillness of the room, but hardly what she would call beautiful. It wasn't ugly, don't get her wrong, but it wasn't up to the standards she had heard from the musical.

If La Carlotta didn't sound like a toad before (like she was often accused of), she surely was going to, now.

"What am I thinking?" She asked herself out loud, groaning. Was she really going to play along with it?

Wait.

 _Distractedly, Mina reached for her earphones, and carefully plugged each bud into each ear. Blindly swiping at the phone's screen for the music-playing app, she pressed for shuffle, and was promptly deafened by an electric-guitar version of "Phantom of the Opera"._

 _Flinching, she frantically lowered the volume, and wondered despairingly how long it had been since she last sat down, watched a proper opera or musical, and enjoyed herself completely._

 _Too damn long, that's how._

 _She wished she could just go back and experience that simple pleasure again. At least, for a short while._

She had made a wish! Maybe this was part of it...?

Thoughts forming and clicking into place, Mina decided she had nothing to lose. If she played along, maybe the horrible dream would come to an end.

Tomorrow, when Piangi would undoubtedly return, she was going to request a trip to the Opera. She was going to act.

With her throat stuck in her throat, she eyed the Bolognese dog. She opened her arms, and began making soft noises to get it to climb into her lap. It did, and settled down nicely.

Her face was burning with embarrassment, but she was determined. "Do, a deer, a female deer. Re, a bunch of golden sun! Mi, a name I call myself. Fa, a long long way to run! So, a needle pulling thread. La, a note to follow 'so'! Ti, a drink with jam and bread! That will bring us back to 'do'!"


	3. Chapter 3

Piangi was, Mina was unsurprised to note, absolutely ecstatic to receive her request _._ He lit up faster than a light bulb, and was infinitely louder than one, she discovered.

 _In his defense_ , Mina supposed, _being loud was a necessity_. The man did work as an opera performer.

At once, he had Mina changed into the gaudiest scarlet dress she had ever had the misfortune to encounter in all her twenty-almost-thirty odd years. The man outright just plucked the ugly thing from the closet where, Mina had realized only hours before, Carlotta—or was it Carmina now?—shoved all her attires into. Come to think of it, it wasn't just a closet—it was a walk-in closet, or, for all intents and purposes, a room entirely meant for similar-fashioned dresses.

The monstrosity of a gown sprawled from the floor in layers of lacy sheer and linen, crawling towards the column of her neck in heaps upon heaps of ribbons and ties and all other bothersome fabric. The dress' length was one foot shy of being scandalous—according to the time line's standards, anyway. Piangi spent his time waiting outside her room, but Mina made sure he was able to hear each and every one of her protests to the servants as they forced her into several contraptions.

She drew the line on the corset and the hoop skirt. "The good doctor advised that I should steer clear of those. I need to properly breathe, you know, so that the air could go to my brain and keep me thinking. That's what this amnesia thing is all about." She reasoned to her quietest servant thus far—Monique, a small, slight lady who couldn't meet Mina's eyes.

The poor woman looked absolutely terrified of Mina, and quickly put away the hoop and the corset.

With the efforts of six women, the dress was slid on to fit Mina, and was, she wheezed uncomfortably, hella tight. She thanked her employees, ignoring their confused looks, and stumbled out of her room (which hopefully wouldn't be her room for long.

The sooner she finished whatever magic, voodoo, or science that put her here, the better.)

Mina was hot wearing that dress, and not even the hot most folks from her time wanted to be.

Piangi, to his credit, only looked at her funny once before gallantly offering her his arm. Mina, annoyed by the gesture, wouldn't really have taken it if it weren't for the fact that it was either that or a cane _because bloody hell the dress weighed at least half of her!_

She was not made for the 1880s.

" _Signore_!" A tall, thin, and fairly good-looking man called out just as Piangi was helping—or, perhaps more closer to the truth, dragging—Mina out of Carlotta's house. He broke into a trot towards the duo's general direction, and Mina sent him her best go-away, who-the-fck-are-you look. This person, catching sight of it, reluctantly slowed, but Mina noticed that Piangi's tense and somewhat impatient form relaxed at the sight of him.

"Ah, Valerio!" Piangi greeted warmly. " _Have you gotten the carriage_?" He asked in Spanish. Mina was surprised to realize that she understood him fully.

Valerio returned the older man's smile with a sweet one of his own. The lad was fair-skinned with dark hair, a good, strong jaw, and a beautiful pair of green eyes. Mina thought he couldn't be any older than her senior students.

" _Yes, signore! We must but wait a moment._ " Valerio answered. Then he faced Mina, and his smile lost its brilliant glow. She immediately felt unwanted, like she had intruded on something she wasn't invited for.

Well, technically, her being in this body was exactly that.

"Ah, _signora Carlotta._ " Valerio tipped his head politely. " _My condolences for your, ah, unfortunate situation._ "

" _Thank you_." Mina replied stiffly, summoning her neice's _Dora the Explorer_ vocabulary. Her babysitting days paid off, it seemed.

She tightened her hold on Piangi's hand, and jerked her head towards him when she felt him tense again. He was watching her from the corner of his eyes, and Mina, confused, unabashedly watched him back until finally, cowed by her stare, he looked away.

She squinted at Carlotta's leading man, and then at Valerio, who she was certain never appeared in the book or the musical.

 _I'm missing something. Okay, Carlotta, previous owner of this body, what have you done to these two poor souls?_

"I'm sorry, I can't recall your identity." She continued awkwardly.

Piangi attempted a smile though it came out more of a grimace. "This is Valerio, my love." Valerio and Mina tensed simultaneously. "My _protégé_." Piangi added.

Mina craned her head and fixed the rotund man a sharp look. She didn't get this man. Glancing uncertainly at Valerio, she decided the boy must at least be used to the original La Carlotta's and Piangi's squabbling if he were indeed Piangi's student.

"Piangi," Mina huffed, exasperated, "You…were we together?" She demanded. She couldn't stand the thought of ruining Carlotta's relationship with this man, if the two were romantically involved. On the other hand, she couldn't stand the thought of having to pretend to be in love with him either. All the same, she couldn't stand the thought of him unhappy because that was just damn ungrateful, considering that he was helping her out, and was consequentially her only ally. "Several days before, you said…"

Piangi's face became unreadable once more. "Carlotta, amica mia…" he sighed heavily.

Valerio, sensing the mood and immediately looking upset, excused himself. "Excuse me, I will look out for the carriage." He muttered, ducking his head and darting away. The two adults watched him go.

Mina patted Piangi's elbow. "Well?" She asked, gesturing with her hand. "Out with it. The sooner we talk about it, the sooner we find a solution."

Piangi sighed a second time. "Yes, amore. We were together."

Mina looked at him closely. Things weren't adding up. Why had he avoided the subject? The other day—"A friend"? Really?

Something was not quite right.

"Oh, alright then." She said, crossing her arms against her chest. "That wasn't too hard now, was it? I'm sorry if I came off as rude, but at least it's out there."

He smiled weakly. "Yes, well…" he trailed off. "I understand if you wish to return to what was before-"

Mina raised a silencing hand, as well as an eyebrow.

Piangi, taken aback, closed his mouth and blinked at her, bewildered.

"That's not it." She spoke slowly, watching his reaction. When he didn't look like she kicked a puppy, she continued cautiously, "Uh. Damn," he flinched, and quickly crossed himself, "how do I say this?" Mina wondered out loud.

She took a deep breath. "Like you know very well, I have amnesia. I lost years of my memory. I wasn't even sure of my name! Now I have to go back to all, uh, this," she gestured to her surroundings. "And, um. I can't. One step at a time, and all that. You know."

"Carlotta?" He was confused.

Mina shrugged. "I can't. Uh. Be with you."

She avoided looking at him for several moments, but gave in and nervously looked at his reaction.

Piangi's whole face had gone slack, which she expected, and he seemed at loss for words, which she also expected.

But then he looked happy, which she hadn't expected.

 _Happy break-up!_ She cheered internally.

Piangi quickly covered up his relieved smile with a stern and regretful expression. "Yes. Of course. Anything for you, amica mia."

Mina broke out into a relieved laugh, which completely got rid of his stern expression and put the smile back on his face. "Thank you!" She laughed breathlessly, pleased with her progress. His relief was infectious, and her joy, as she had once been told, was contagious.

"Thank you so much for understanding, Piangi! You're the best." She patted his shoulder genially.

The man visibly brightened upon hearing this. "You are very much welcome, Car...mina." He lowered his voice, and watched Mina with kind eyes. "I've forgotten how you were, before..." He did not finish this thought and simply chuckled as well.

The sight of the two of them having a laugh together was what Valerio and the carriage returned to.

Valerio waved and wordlessly popped the carriage door open for their convenience. Mina gave him a friendly smile and pulled herself up into the vehicle, observing its interior curiously. She had to shift her skirts so that Piangi could come in and sit.

The big man turned to face Valerio. "Join us, lad."

Valerio shook his head. "I will sit with the coachman," and then he shut the door.

Piangi wilted, and glanced at Mina.

Mina pretended to look out of the window, resting her chin on her palm. Something weird was going on with those two.

* * *

Mina was sweating like a pig, and the stench of the streets clung to her senses like a clingy boyfriend.

God, she hated this dress. Who needed a bed when they had this portable mattress swatted around the hips? She was practically floating in her seat, considering the layers of cloth cushioning her butt. If she didn't arrive to their destination dripping wet (not the good kind of wet, either), well, she'd sing the alphabet!

She felt, altogether, quite putrid. The natural ease with which Piangi kept up conversation (after recovering from his impromptu depression, that was), speaking about the most menial of things, revealed that he was probably very used to these conditions.

Mina had debated closing the window to block out the smell, but then that would mean subjecting herself to the crippling heat and the carriage's own stench, so there. Lesser evil. The window remained blissfully open.

"Ah, here we are," Piangi declared finally, and Mina all but scrambled out of the carriage. She held on to a conveniently placed post and steadied herself, nauseous and green-faced. She held a hand to her mouth and swallowed the bile that rose to her throat.

"Are you alright, mademoiselle?" A concerned gentleman asked, glancing at Piangi, who was struggling to exit the carriage, and Valerio, who was helping him out.

Mina looked up blearily, and sighed when she saw the dawning recognition in his face. Before he could exclaim out loud, however, she raised a silencing hand. "I am," She answered weakly. She cleared her throat and nodded curtly, a hand conspicuously resting on her hurting stomach. "Thank you for your concern. If you'd excuse me." She quickly walked past him, and only turned when Piangi called her name. Her partner caught up to her, and Mina quickly opened the door for him.

He sent her an odd look as he passed, but Mina swiftly walked after him. The smell of the streets decreased significantly as Valerio closed the door behind them, and she immediately felt like she could breathe again.

 _Clean!_ She exclaimed internally, looking around the opera with an impressed look.

 _Danger!_ Her instincts screeched. Mina lurched to the right, catching Valerio by the arm and pulling him with her. The young man made an angry, startled noise against her bosom (whoops!), but that was drowned out by the sound of porcelain shattering into tiny, tiny pieces.

Breathing harshly, Mina whirled around, pushing Valerio away from her, and stared at the spot where she had just stood.

A pile of broken vase shards, dirt, and plant lay from wherever fathomless abyss it dropped from.

"The phantom." She breathed disbelievingly, feeling faint. Oh, what was she thinking? Of course it was the phantom! Who else could do such a thing?

Piangi was speaking rapidly to her, as well as to the staff who witnessed it, barking orders and squealing frustrated questions, but Mina drowned them out. She swatted away the concerned hands reaching, groping for her, and concentrated on calming her breathing pattern. She put her hands on her knees and counted to ten.

Because she was hyperventilating.

 _The phantom!_

 _The phantom tried to kill her!_

 _And she had just arrived in the opera!_

 _The phantom!_

"That fucker!" She exclaimed, wild-eyed. She released her shaking knees and straightened, rubbing her head. "He tried to kill me!"

 _This was too fast! Too fast!_

"La Carlotta!" Piangi cried out, out of censorship or concern, whichever.

She turned to him and grabbed his shoulders. "That little sensitive bullying shit just tried to kill me, and I haven't been here two minutes!" She hissed, seething. Furious, she released Piangi and turned to a maid. "You!"

The maid jumped. "Y-Yes, mademoiselle?"

"Take me to the manager's office." She growled, rolling her sleeves up and picking up her skirt. "He and I need to talk."


End file.
